#the fucking mafia attempt to kill him too because he brought up the mafia issue on television
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Maurizio Costanzo left us yesterday. Such a familiar face and voice in italian television.
You know I went absolutely crazy when Harry started singing a couple of times “Se telefonando” during HSLOT last year. Here I am yet again bringing this song back.
Maurizio Costanzo wrote the lyrics to one of the most iconic songs in our culture and nonetheless Ennio Morricone (yes, yes, the same Morricone Harry was watching the documentary about and shared the story on ig? That one) arranged the melody. This is Mina performing the song. The only live performance of Se telefonando by Mina ever. What a trio. Anyway I am a bit sad after yesterday, because we keep losing these majestic people who were part of our families basically everyday you know? And they leave huge empty spaces… looking at the scene right now nobody is gonna fit in their shoes.
I hope Maurizio can eat all the candies and ice cream he wants now, without Maria hiding it in the highest kitchen counters ❣️
#sometimes you got to spread some international culture in this fandom#otherwise it’s just american ones with random british spots#with fair but still it can be a bit alienating if that makes sense#anyway it’s hard to imagine how incredible this song is#like it basically contains the best products of Italian entertainment world#tv music and cinema!#but also.. Maurizio was a fucking legend for other reasons too#the fucking mafia attempt to kill him too because he brought up the mafia issue on television#seems like something small but it’s NOT#even saviano (u can like him or not) thanked him for that because - and i quote-#‘without costanzo’s light in those years I would have ever seen learn and understood (how important is to speak up)’#against criminal organisations#uff im sad 😔#mina mazzini#ennio morricone#maurizio costanzo
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Moonlight
warning: Light depictions of violence, Aku really admires Atsushi’s tiger (idk if it comes off as super sexual, so idk might be a bit monster-fucker-y) Nothing sexual or vulgar, just him being super into watching Atsushi kill.
edit: Had to fix some glaring formatting issues, also just editted some of the choppier bits of the text :D
Akutagawa had no clue why he was out looking for a pissy tiger gijinka at 10 pm, but he was. He wasn't super thrilled about it, to say the least. However, Dazai had called and explained that Atsushi had apparently had an awful day at work or something and then changed into a weretiger in the evening, and the bandaged ADA agent wasn't sure if that was intentional or because of the full moon, so it was now up to Aku to go find the weretiger and bring him back to his apartment before he could cause any trouble.
Any good mafia member would've told the traitorous sociopath to go fuck himself with a cactus, but some weird urge had led the goth to agree to return Atsushi home for his old mentor. Had him receiving the crybaby's address from his mentor and heading out into the darkness.
It wasn't that he still wanted acknowledgment, he'd gotten his praise and acknowledgment a few weeks before. So while he still highly respected Dazai, he wasn't out clicking his tongue into alleyways and lifting himself onto rooftops at such a late hour for his praise. It definitely wasn't out of concern for Jinko, he could care less if the brainless house cat got hit by a car or stuck up a telephone pole. No, what had Akutagawa out near the hellish docks was a lingering sense of curiosity. He couldn't exactly place what he was curious about that exact moment, but he was intrigued. So, he poked around until he finally spotted a familiar flick of white and black disappearing around the corner in the slums.
When he spotted the first signs of Atsushi, Akutagawa dropped to a crouch and crept forward until he could look around the wall to see a dimly glowing white tiger nosing through a trash bag he seemed interested in. With him distracted, Aku took the chance to move towards him, bringing Rashoumon to life once he was close enough. Either the energy or the light near-instantly drew the predator's eye, but either way, he was now staring into the golden eyes of Atsushi Nakajima, or, more so, his tiger.
In that dangerous, uneasy situation, it finally clicked. He'd wanted to see this. Atsushi's full tiger form. That's why he'd agreed to go hunting for him upon Dazai's request. Not only that but staring into those predatory eyes brought a new sensation through his body. Awe.
"Jinko," He said, doing his best to sound calm while he internally battled a storm of fear, awe, and honest wonder. "Can you understand me?" He asked it nonchalantly, his grey eyes just staying glued to the tiger's golden gaze as he circled to face the vampire of a man properly. With no answer, obviously, Aku took a deep breath to steel his nerves before trying to reason with the creature again, "Listen, I know we don't get along, you annoy the shit out of me, I'm sure you dislike me just as much. But, Dazai sent me to try and return you home, so can you please cooperate?" He asked, but the answer he got was a pretty huffy tail lash and the creature walking past him and across the street to dig through more trash. And for a moment, Akutagawa was nearly mesmerized, forgetting what he was going to say. The hunter's movements revealed the powerful muscles just beneath its snowy, striped fur, it knocked home just how dangerous this car-sized cat could be. He hasn't attacked me though, the mafioso realized, normally Jinko would maul me on sight, but his tiger isn't. Not even a growl. The realization almost made a sense of honor well up in his chest as he followed the giant cat to the next bag of garbage he seemed intent on investigating.
For a bit, the goth trailed after the large predator, his original task abandoned, mesmerized by the sight of it moving so quietly despite its lethal claws and hulking, muscular form. However, his observations were interrupted when a realization hit him like a brick to the face, Of course! He's hungry! No wonder he's been digging through stray garbage bags and whatnot, he's probably looking for meat! He slapped his hand over his face at how obvious that had been, then, he whistled to the massive feline, coughing a few times before he spoke again,
"Would you like to actually hunt, Jinko?" The snowy ears of the creature perked at the mention of hunting, perhaps he can understand me to some extent, the thought was swiftly shelved for later though, he had mentioned hunting, he had no time to ponder how conscious his nemesis was as a likely impatient and hungry tiger. "If you follow me, I can take you to someone you can hunt," he offered, once again looking into the yellow eyes of the beast, almost able to see him contemplating his offer before he suddenly moved forward.
Akutagawa's first thought was that the car-sized feline was going to eat him instead, but no. In reality, Atsushi simply headbutted him in the chest, sending him sliding on his back across the pavement, coughing and wheezing from the air leaving his weak lungs so suddenly.
"J-Jinko!" he snapped between coughs, glowing red in his annoyance, but instead of being even slightly intimidated or on-edge from the show of hostility, Atsushi just continued to headbutt or nose him, pushing him along the pavement until the choking mafioso finally managed to put his hand on the cat's striped, moon-silver forehead, Holy shit, you're so soft, and shove him back enough to let him get back to his feet. "What are you doing Jinko? Don't nuzzle up to me just because I offered you food, dumbass!" he snarled, keeping his pale hand on the cat's head as he glared at him.
The two stood there for a moment, Akutagawa's glow intensifying when Atsushi pushed against his hand and made him step back to avoid tumbling over again, all the while the choppy-haired vampire was trying to decipher what the weretiger might be doing this for. It's not likely that he wishes to eat me. If he did, he would've pounced as soon as I was on the ground...That also means he's not looking for a fight. Could it be his way of thanking me for offering to take him to hunt? Is he just trying to NUZZLE me?? His cheeks heated like stovetop burners at the thought of the elegant predator showing him, his most hated rival, affection of all things. He could handle the tiger trying to maul him, half expected it honestly, but he didn't know how to feel about Atsushi nuzzling up to him as a thank you or otherwise.
It was only when he gave another attempt at a nudge that Akutagawa got the message at long last.
"Oh! You're wanting me to take you there!" He rolled his dark gray eyes at that and pushed himself away from the weretiger, turning around with a huff and starting to lead the way. This also gave his pale cheeks the time to return to normal in the cool night air, though his heart couldn't seem to stay at a steady, calm pace. It kept jumping and thumping unpredictably with the excitement of maybe seeing Atsushi on a proper hunt.
It was sure to be a fascinating sight, to see the massive feline crouched, creeping up on an unsuspecting victim, to see his muscles bunch with so much power just before lunging at the prey. He was excited at the thought of seeing the weretiger's lethal talons tear into a person, and his jaws crunch down mercilessly on his victim's bones. The sheer power of it. The fact that he had fought someone who could tap into that primal potential. He'd looked into such an animal's eyes, he'd seen the human intelligence mingling seamlessly with the animalistic cunning. Atsushi's razor-sharp fangs had been mere inches from such a vital part of his body, and yet he'd done no malicious harm. No, not a scratch. Aku couldn't place the feeling of awe and nebulous adrenaline-pumping thrill he got from it. From being so close to a beast who could end him without hesitation or issue, and yet he hadn't. All of that strength was so beautifully control-
The goth's thoughts were interrupted by another headbutt, this time to his spine, sending him sprawling onto the pavement with an indignant squawk.
"Jinko! Wha- Are you trying to get me to speed up, or fucking kill me?!" He snapped, scrambling to his feet with a small cough and a tidal wave of humiliation for the noise he'd made on his way down, but his only response was another nudge from the beast, one he swatted away. "Oh no! I am not jogging or running ahead of you! Quit acting like an impatient toddler," he scolded, dusting himself off while the tiger huffed like said impatient toddler.
With his own grumpy huff, he continued, leading Atsushi out of the slums and into the nicer parts of town. It wasn't the rich end of Yokohama, where the homes were capped with long driveways and wrought-iron fences or had names for addresses, but it wasn't the slums. The neighborhood they ended up in, while sparse of people on the sidewalk and road, thrummed with life within the safety of the nightclubs and bars that were scattered about. It was somewhere near the outskirts of town without being too far, around there Akutagawa would find the mafia's casino and the one rival casino whose owner was as equally a customer of the mafia as much as a rival.
"Alright, you stay here for a moment. I've got to go find your food. Don't worry, they aren't good, innocent people, so you shouldn't feel a lick of shame for eating them." He promised Atsushi, now standing a few buildings down in a wide alleyway from the rival casino. "You eat the men in suits to your heart's content, in return, I'll destroy the street security cameras." The creature made a noise he assumed was agreement, so he left him in the alleyway and began prowling the street, taking out cameras as he went until he'd not only left the whole street defenseless but also found the owner of the second gambling hall.
Once he'd located the man and his goons relaxing at an outside table, smoking and drinking their booze in front of the closed shop, he used a ribbon of his coat to slither over and knick the owner with the sharpened cloth, slipping away before he realized it was more than a simple bug bite or accidental scratch. With the fresh blood now on his coat, he slunk back to Atsushi, letting the striped hunter sniff the strip of cloth thoroughly before he hoisted himself onto the roof with Rashoumon.
From his vantage point on the rooftops, the wheezy goth could follow the weretiger as he prowled down the street, following the scent of blood until he too spotted the prey at the cafe table and fell into a hunter's crouch. The goth repressed his coughing and wheezing as much as possible, paused with the cat, his grey eyes fixated on the silent animal as he inched closer to the men.
It amazed Aku that neither the owner nor his goons noticed the rabbit-soft white-and-black fur of the weretiger, part of him wanted them to spot the beast before he pounced, just so he could watch them run and panic and really see Atsushi chase down his prey. Sadly, by the time the small group had finally realized they were being stalked, it was too late. Atsushi was already on them, tearing them apart, his powerful jaws turning their muscles to pulled pork in seconds, his talons tearing into them like a hot knife through butter. They tried to run, but they didn't get far before each one was picked off with one swipe of the dark claws, or powerful jaws of the predator.
Akutagawa watched the scene from the safety of the rooftop, his heart racing with excitement, his breath quickening as he grinned like a lunatic. Not even his subsequent coughing fit could ruin the absolute thrill that zipped through his blood at the sight of such a gorgeous, efficient predator crunching on bones like they were nothing, his white fur now stained a lovely shade of red. It took a moment for him to come back from that high and realize that his lightheadedness and shortness of breath had gone from pure elation to an issue, so he had to swiftly fish his inhaler out of his pocket and pull from it, hoping it was enough to open his airways so he would avoid the hospital. He was not keen on having to explain to a doctor what exactly had gotten him so hyper.
Thankfully for the pale mafioso, his inhaler worked. So, after a moment to catch his breath and regain his composure, he brought Rashoumon to life and used it to lower himself down to the pavement again, a safe distance from Atsushi, who was contently tearing the mafia's rivals apart and devouring their flesh. With one final calming breath, he slowly walked over to the beast, not getting a glance as he approached until he was beside the car-sized feline while he chomped at a bone until it splintered.
Once he was sure Atsushi wasn't interested in him, Akutagawa crouched down and gently, tentatively put a hand against his side, feeling the soft, silky, striped fur and perfectly honed muscles just beneath his pale fingertips.
"I can see why Dazai chose you...over me..." he muttered quietly, his eyes glued to the tiger's mouth, admiring his fangs as they worked at the bones and meat of the casino owner, "You are far beyond my power level. So much more controlled, so much stronger, so much more capable than I'll ever be." It hurt to voice these shameful realizations, but for some reason, Aku felt like he wouldn't be judged by the beast, even if it did understand his words, it wouldn't shame him for his admitting to his faults.
So, he just sat beside the tiger, running his hand over the beast's side, shoulder, even along its back, from snout to as far as he could reach behind him. Just taking everything about him in. The car-sized feline didn't seem to care at all, unbothered by the admiring pets, or when Aku grabbed his back paw to flex his toes and unsheath his talons. Some part of the mafioso still reminded him, He could still eat you next, but it did nothing to dissuade the child-like curiosity that fuelled his exploration of every deadly part of the animal, from tracing his muscles, to bringing out his bloodied talons, all while Atsushi ate his fill of his prey until nothing remained save for their shredded clothing.
The pale man simply gathered those up and ran a hand through his chopped up hair,
"I guess I should take you back to your apartment now before dawn comes." he mused, judging that they had about an hour or two before the sun rose and Atsushi likely changed back to his more pathetic, weak form. Aku looked at the weretiger, watching as the beast licked his chops and shook himself off, then turned with a sigh to head to the address Dazai had given him. Atsushi followed without complaint, padding alongside the goth, much more content, it seemed.
Once Atsushi was safely back in his own home, and the clothing was burnt and disposed of, Aku went home to his personal apartment, flopping onto the bed with a half groan, half sigh. Now that he wasn't running on thrills and curiosity, he was exhausted. His only thought before passing out was Never telling anyone of this.
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bad day | Mafia AU Shoto Todoroki x Reader
This is my first fic! ahhhh so sorry if it’s not that great hahaha
Word count: 3740 gah damn, I did NOT expect for it to get this long LOL got carried away
Genre: Smut, NSFW
Summary: You’re a brat and Mafia!Todoroki isn’t having it after having a rough day dealing with issues of his own.
Warnings: Rough sex, slight degradation, spanking, slight BDSM, edging, overstimulation
“I don’t care what the excuse is, when I give you a job, you get it done.” Shoto growled at the pitiful heap of a man he just finished teaching a lesson to. He wiped the blood from his knuckles, scoffed at the man with disgust, and turned to leave. The other members looked on silently, never daring to interfere when their leader dished out discipline.
“Fuck.” Shoto scoffed as he hopped in his car, frustration making him scrunch his brow. He lingered on the steering wheel as he closed his eyes and leaned back on the head rest. What a day it had been. Since taking on one of the more significant leadership roles for the group, the stress had been building up through recent days. Today was the cherry on top. One of his men had a hit he was designated to fulfill and lost the man while simultaneously almost getting caught.
Such amateurs.
There were so many younger guys that had been recently recruited and the more they fucked up, the more Shoto felt his patience wearing down. They would laugh it off, dismissing the severity of being caught. That childishness is what set him off to the breaking point today of beating on of his guys as a reminder to acknowledge the consequences.
Shoto was a hero with a reputation that would be in grave danger if it was exposed to the public that he ran with a menacing crowd. They operated underground, attempting to fly beneath the public’s eyes as they carried out business ordeals at night and always, ALWAYS wore their signature black masks. Shoto never expected to be pulled into such a dirty cycle, but he justified it with the thought that their hits were against bad people. Aside from that, he hated to admit it- but he was a sucker for money. Their gang was one of the most powerful and intimidating in the area, and when they approached Shoto to join, it was a win-win for both sides.
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Shoto backed out of the driveway and made his way home, annoyed thoughts biting at him the whole ride. Why did he have to worry about his men on top of everything else? In the moment, the thoughts of balancing his double life became overwhelming. He gritted his teeth and continued to weave through traffic. Being the reckless driver he was, he arrived at his luxury mansion in no time. Parking his car, his glanced in the rear view mirror to find an unforgiving reflection staring back at him. Running his hand through his hair, he attempted to make himself a bit more presentable. He didn’t have time for your questions, and knew if he showed up dirtied, you would pester him endlessly about it. Drained and ready to just get some peace and sleep, he stepped out of the car and made his way inside.
Your home was the perfect balance between modern and traditional. When you and Shoto got married, it didn’t take long to find the perfect one. Of course, he was straight out of hero school and was not affiliated with the gang yet. It almost tore you two apart when he joined. You were so opposed to his involvement in dark crimes- after all, he was a hero. Eventually, you tuned it out, trying your best to ignore the fact he ran with some of the most dangerous men.
Shoto burst through the door, clearly still angry. He threw his shoes off and mindlessly tossed his keys on the counter. You came out in the kitchen to greet him. Unaware that he had overlooked a stain of blood on his neck in his attempt to clean up before coming in, he pushed through to the bedroom.
“Where the hell did you get that from?” you narrowed your eyes as you tugged his shirt, halting him in the middle of the hallway.
Shoto half wanted to just dismiss it, but he knew you were just going to keep asking.
“I cut myself jumping down from a building when I was on a scene earlier rescuing a child.” He stated abruptly, hoping to shut your suspicions down. He knew you knew about his affiliations, but since you two never talked about it, he wasn’t about to bring it up now.
“Bullshit,” you said, “I went by the agency earlier to drop something off for you, and they said you weren’t on call tonight. You’ve been avoiding me the past week too, don’t fucking lie. This has something to do with that little mafia group of yours, doesn’t it?”
Heat mustering up in his chest, Shoto turned to face you, his heterochromatic eyes cutting through you.
“Why don’t you mind your fucking business? I thought you didn’t want anything to do with that part of my life, so why get all riled up now? Move. I had a rough day, I just want to sleep.”
You were done with his behavior.
“Because! You come home angry all the time, and I’ve already ignored some of the nights you come back with bloody clothes. That’s it, I’m over this. Running around fucking killing people like a criminal or pretending to be a hero. I can’t keep up with your shit anymore, Shoto.”
Shoto seethed at your words. Between his dysfunctional group of guys, the constant stress the agency was putting him under, and now YOU. He couldn’t take it. The patience in him snapped.
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Before you knew what was happening, he had you by the wrist and forcibly led you to the bedroom. He pushed you in and locked the door behind him, looking more like a hungry predator than your husband. You knew his rough days got the best of him and when they did, the loving man you were infatuated with disintegrated. You couldn’t say you didn’t find some kind of satisfaction from bringing out his dark side, but damn, tonight he looked PISSED.
He stood over you now, staring at you with carnal intent, before breaking the stare and tossing you on the armchair in the corner.
“You know, I had planned to just shower and go to bed, but since you wanted to put your nose where it doesn’t belong, you’ll learn your place tonight.” He leaned down to you, his face an inch from you. You turned away.
“Better be in position for me when I get out, princess” he whispered, his breath grazing your neck.
You knew what this meant. Every time he had a particularly rough day, he used you as relief. He got up and disappeared into the master bathroom, where you heard him let the water run and step in the shower.
You debated leaving like you were just yelling in the hallway about. But you couldn’t do that. He had eyes everywhere, he would find you. Besides, in some twisted way, you relished in the power this man had over you no matter how hard you tried to break it.
Realizing he would be done soon, you slipped out of the chair and into your designated position. You sat slowly on your knees, with your hands in your lap. You brushed your hair back, ready and waiting.
Then, a thought flickered across your mind- disobey him. You knew more than anyone how serious Shoto was when he gave orders, he expected full compliance. He was used to it. You never defied him.
He doesn’t deserve it. You thought, not wanting to give in to his demands. With that, you lifted yourself back up and into the chair, slouching and making it seem like you didn’t care. You waited as you heard his wet footsteps padding towards the door.
“You better be in position princess,” his voice drifted through the door.
You waited anxiously. He stepped in, clad in a black silk robe and gently rubbing his hair with the back of his towel. Your eyes studied his figure, one that was almost too beautiful for you sight. The robe was loosely tied so that his toned chest was exposed and his wet hair look….my god, was that your weakness.
A sharp “tch” snapped you out of your thoughts. He had lifted his gaze to see you, still in the same spot he left you in.
Your stomach fluttered seeing his realization that were defying him. A sly smile crossed your lips as you fixated your stare on his narrowed eyes. Dropping the towel on the floor, he approached you quickly, bending down to pinch your cheeks in his hand in a rather tight grip.
“You think this is funny? I told you to be in position when I finished.”
You cocked your brow, your brattiness still stirring despite his grip on your face.
“Didn’t feel like it”
In response to your tone, Shoto moved his hand from your cheeks to your hair, yanking you up and walking you over to the bed.
He pushed you over, as you stumbled to catch the side of the mattress, looking back at him, biting your lip, challenge still glimmering in your eyes as you silently dared him to do his worst.
Boiling with pure annoyance at your disobedience from earlier, the dominant in Shoto leaped out as he turned your head, forcing your upper body into the mattress. Your shorts were pulled down and his hand found the bridge in your back as he pushed down, hard.
“Stay right fucking there. I swear if you move.”
He went to the dresser and you could hear him fumbling through his belts. Once he came back over, he smoothed it and doubled it over. Keeping your composure, you tried to peer over at him, to which he noticed and quickly took his left hand and pushed your face forward.
“Keep your eyes forward. You’re going to watch.”
You were facing the mirror that sat on the other side of your bed. Shoto kept his hand in your hair and brought down the belt to grazed your ass. You didn’t even see it in the air before you felt it. Taken aback by the force, you fell slightly forward and bit the sheets.
“What did I say- eyes up” Shoto barked.
You looked up with fire in your eyes, glaring at him. Seeing how mad you were did nothing but to intensify his hits, determined to break the brat in you tonight.
Smack. The second one came down hard and biting down on your lip, you struggled to keep your shriek in. “Sho-“ you whined quietly.
Shoto wasn’t pleased with your lack of response and continued to rain down spanks with no rest between, inevitably forcing tears to spring out of your eyes. “Who’s Sho? What do you call me princess? Better start acting right or this gets worse for you.”
“I-I meant Daddyy” you try and make up for your mistake. You looked at your reflection, now falling apart at the hands of your husband.
Your whimpers satisfied his ears as he threw the belt to the ground and stepped back to admire his work. Bending down to place a soft kiss on it, he let his tongue trace the newly formed welts.
“I didn’t want to do this princess, but you had to learn a lesson for being such a brat earlier,” he mumbled against your skin. You swayed your hips back, still panting from how winded the spanking got you. The coolness of his tongue felt soothing and for a moment you thought that was it. But he was far from done with you.
He spun you around. Falling back on the arm chair and untying his robe, he stared you down.
“Strip.”
You only had your bra and shirt still on but shyly slipped out of them. His eyes ravaged your figure, thirsty to have you at his mercy. His hand rubbed against his robe, ready for some release.
“Come here. You’re going to suck me off and make me feel good”
Shoto gestured for you to sit at his feet, to which you followed. Your ass sat back on your heels, still tender and red. Looking up at him, you reached for his cock. He grabbed your wrist and threw it back.
“No hands, use your teeth.”
With that, you glided your teeth over his robe and gently unwrapped it from his body. His dick revealed itself to you and you licked at it before Shoto grew impatient.
“Stop with the teasing” he hissed and pushed you down. If there was something you were an absolute beast at, it was giving head. Shoto knew it too. He knew you were capable of taking his length expertly. As you sank down on him, he threw his head back with a deep moan.
“Fuuuck Y/N, you know how to please Daddy. What a good girl”
His praises made you melt as you responded with sloppy gags as your eyes rolled up to look at him. He was barely holding on, you could see it in his expression. Turned on by your gaze, he wrapped his hands around your head and forced you down. You stayed there until you sputtered and your throat burned, leading you to pinching his thigh twice- the signal you used for when you couldn’t take it. He pulled you off sharply, briefly scanning you for any real distress. Despite having an actual dark side, even in the bedroom, Shoto would never take it too far, so long as you permitted it. He opted to teach you lessons when needed, but would never fully want to break you.
You looked up at him- mascara running and saliva smeared on your chin and smirked. “Done already?” you teased. Taking this as an indication that you were fine, his expression flickered back to his dominant demeanor. “As if,” he scuffed. “I’m far from done with your bratty ass.”
Thrusting his dick back in your mouth, your breath hitched in surprise. Shoto was now frowning down on you, watching you bob up and down. “Fuck babe, I’m gonna cum” he exhaled out. You closed your eyes and prepared yourself, all while he repeatedly hit the back of your throat.
He groaned as he released and you felt the warmth seep on your tongue. “Hold it, don’t swallow,” Shoto ordered. You froze in surprise, never being told to do this before. As his cum shot into your mouth, the taste was too strong, you gulped it down before even giving his request a second thought.
“Did you just swallow it?” Shoto looked down, obviously disappointed. “You’re such a fucking slut you couldn’t even wait to drink my cum couldn’t you?”
He brought his thumb to lift your face to meet his. “And here I thought you were starting to learn. But you’re still a bad girl, Y/N....sooo bad”
You shivered in his touch. Fuck. You didn’t mean to swallow. You had already dropped the brattiness in hopes of getting properly fucked after your spanking, but now you dug yourself a deeper hole.
Shoto lifted you and pushed you on the bed, where you fell face first into the pillows.
“Get your fucking ass up in the air” he mumbled, as he hitched your hips up roughly. You stayed on your forearms, waiting in your vulnerable position for whatever he had in store. He slid off the bed to the headboard, where he had attachments for cuffs you two used every now and then.
“Hands.”
You offered him your wrists, watching as he cuffed them straight above you. You laid on your stomach with your hands attached to the bed, your ass up and out before him. Shoto moved to examine your perfectly posed frame, all for him. You were a blank canvas for him to mark as he pleased.
You winced as he dragged his hand on your sensitive ass, his fingers slipping ever so lightly over your folds, making you lighthead. “Shoto please, I didn’t mean it. I just wanted to be a good girl, please”
Your reasoning did nothing to offset the mans intentions. “Oh princess, you’ll be a good girl by the time I’m done with you” he calmly said, moving his face to be at face level with your slit. Without warning, he brought his tongue to your entrance and began violently lapping streaks up and down. You squealed. Both of you had oral game that was out of this world. Your mind swirled as he continued to devour you, his thumb reaching around to rub your clit. You felt a tingling creeping up and with that, you started to mewl Shoto’s name. He pinched your clit roughly and muttered through eating you out “uh uh, that’s not my name”
The added vibrations of his voice against your most sensitive parts made you cry out. “Daddy! I’m gonna cum” With that, he took it away. His tongues, his fingers, everything- gone. Frustration built up in your chest as you tried to grind back against something….anything.
Shoto let out a menacing chuckle. “Baby, you aren’t going to cum until I say you can, understand?”
You grit your teeth and nod. Of course.
“Look at you. Fucking dripping like a whore. Your pussy is just waiting to be filled, isn’t that right?”
Still caught up in your lost orgasm, you weren’t paying attention. That is until an icy hand wrapped around your throat, jerking you up and arching your back against his chest.
“Answer me,” he growled softly in your ear.
“Y-yes daddy. I want to be filled by your cock”
Shoto sighed in approval and reached up to adjust the cuffs, directing you to lay on your back. You wiggled under him and watched him ready himself. Pushing the hair away from your face, he leaned down to his your temple and whispered “You ready for Daddy to fuck you into your place, princess?”
You nodded slowly, now under his spell, fully submissive….straight up putty in his hands.
He lined himself up with you and slowly inched inside, carefully watching as your face contorted. He bottomed out and fell forward, only stopping for a few seconds to let your adjust before he began his pace. It was brutal. He took his length out before slamming it all in, forcing your breath to be stuck in your throat.
“Daddy- unf..harder..please”
Shoto smirked and leaned back, placing your legs on his shoulders. He continued to drill into you, your hands growing sore off the cuffs as you were rocked up and down. You didn’t care. The insane pleasure outweighed the pain.
“Look at me”
Your half lidded eyes sprung open to stare into Shoto’s, full of lust. He smiled at your mangled expression.
“Looks like my pretty little princess has been broken. Tell me, did you learn your lesson?”
“MMhmmm” you can barely draw out any words as you nod fervently, as he went deeper into you.
Shoto slowed down temporarily to reach over to the dresser to grab a small bullet vibrator.
Oh no. You thought. You knew how one of Shoto’s favorite punishments were edging and overstimulation. You had hoped he forgot but then again, when did he ever.
Placing the vibrator on your clit, Shoto flipped it on, drawing an immediate cry from you. Your cuff hands yanked against their restraints to no avail. You tried squeezing your legs closed, only to be met by his hand roughly pushing it back open.
“The fuck do you think you’re doing? Stay put, you’re taking this punishment.”
You looked at him with pleading eyes. You knew this was going to push you over. He hiked it up to the highest setting and you turned your head to bite in your arm to suppress your screams. Between his cock rutting in and out of you at an unforgiving speed and the vibrations, you weren’t sure how much more you could take. You began to see stars.
“Don’t you dare cum. Hold it.”
“I can’t! It’s too much” you cried, tears spilling over as you whined, begging your husband to take it easy.
“You wanted to be a brat today, you can take it. You won’t cum until I tell you to”
His words made you heave in frustration. How the hell were you going to hold out?
Suddenly, the vibrator turned off, his dick left you, but his head dipped down quickly. Pretty soon, three fingers were pumping in and out as you continued to feel your orgasm approaching. Shoto licked and sucked your clit, knowing you were on the edge. He softly bit at it, which made your hips rise off the bed and plead for your release.
“Please daddy! I can’t anymore, I have to cum”
He watched you writhe, not saying anything and his lack of response made you question whether it wad okay to let go. He was teasing you. Shoto continued slamming his fingers into your g-spot as he looked up.
“Cum, Y/N. Cum all over my fingers”
Not even a second after you heard his permission, your orgasm hit you hard as you came undone on his hand. Looking satisfied he retracted his hand from your pussy. Moving up, he thrust his cock back into you. Eyes shooting open, you stifle a scream as he plowed your now overly sensitive cunt.
“Ahhh~ I can’t again, its too sensitive Sho, not so fast”
“I haven’t came yet angel, don’t be fucking selfish” he growled as he chased his high. Holding your hips down into the bed, you felt his quirk lightly activate, as your left hip started to freeze and your right was heating up. Tears streamed as you silently screamed, overly stimulated to the point where your voice was knocked out of you. Shoto grunted, falling on top of you, as he reached his peak.
Sighing into your neck, he collapsed beside you. Reaching up, he unfastened you from the headboard and you brought your hands down to massage them. Just as fast as your little session had manifested, the dark glow was gone from Shoto. He lightly kissed your slightly bruised wrists. “Sorry,” he looked up with a soft face. You returned a small smile to him.
“You’re such a good girl, Y/N. I love you” he smirked before getting up to get a glass of water. You sighed. There was just something about him you could never get enough of.
#todoroki x reader#shoto torodoki#shoto todoroki x reader#todoroki x you#bnha imagines#bnha smut#mha imagines#mha smut#brat taming#todoroki#bnha todoroki#shouto headcanons#bnha shouto#bnha lemon#todoroki lemon
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A Marriage of Inconvenience (3)
overall pairing: mafia!jeno x mafia!oc
overall genre: angst | smut | fluff
warnings: language, mentions of violence + death, oppression of women, murder/homicide, forced (?) kissing but it’s implied that she likes it, mentions of drugs + drug use + drugging someone else, emotional blackmail (kinda)
summary: when two mafia gangs decide to end their family feud after decades, your mother decides to give your hand away to marriage of their son, lee jeno. he seemed to hate you from the moment he laid his eyes on you, but could the resolution lead to something much more than a bride and groom?
words: 5.2k
masterlist
requested by 🤡 anon
18 April
You felt yourself wake up with a haze in your brain, feeling like you were fogged from heat as you opened your eyes with a few blinks. Your body felt like it was on fire, and just as you let out a groan, you tried to bring your hands to your face to rub it a bit, but you couldn’t. Your vision blurred, you tugged at your arms again, now hearing the chains that were coming from the cuffs around your wrists and ankles, anchoring you to the ground.
What happened? It was like someone had read your thoughts when you heard a bright, yet deep laugh in front of you, startling you as you struggled to look up from where you were. I was at the hideout, in the hallway, a smoke bomb went off, and—
Your memory blanked out from there, the last words in your brain being those from your darling fiancee. The entire world is a game, Park. We’re all just a bunch of players. But nothing seemed to come after that, a complete wipe out of everything that could have happened after that smoke bomb went off. “Who’s there?”
A figure came closer to you, your vision clearing slowly with each move it made until it was in the front, kneeling down to the level you were at. The ‘it’ was rather a man, and a very beautiful one in your perspective. His face inched closer to yours, eyes darting all over your face before the ends of his lips darted up in a twisted smile, painting his face gorgeously. “He was right, baby, you’re a pretty one.”
You opened your mouth to speak, but the motion was cut off harshly, the man’s lips coming crashing down on your own as you attempted to push him away. The jingle of the chains was a loud echo in the room, making the man giggle as he dodged your teeth, pressing his tongue into your mouth instead. His mouth was warm, so sweet and inviting as his tongue molded against yours, urging you to give in—to kiss him back for just a moment.
He pulled away from you, the dyed silver hair falling over his eyes as he pushed it back in one motion, licking his lips as if he had just tasted something. “I could just ruin you, Park—” A hand went to your jaw as you opened your mouth again in the slightest, grasping it tightly in his palm as he pulled you closer to him once again.
In all your years of experience in fighting, never did you think you would go so weak in the knees for such dominance like this. Whoever this mysterious man was, he was making your heart jump in less than a second, making you wonder how you were being so affected by this. I’m drugged, aren’t I? That’s why I’m so weak.
You weren’t wrong about that, but it wasn’t the drugs that let out a soft whimper when his teeth grazed across your neck, hoping that he wouldn’t hear. He did, however, the darkness of his eyes focusing back on you as a smirk plastered his face again. “So impatient, you are a Park indeed, sweetheart. Say—”
The man’s words were cut off short with a bang coming from the end of the room, making you jump as a door had flown open, a man coming in storming hastily towards the two of you. He let go of the grasp around your jaw, sighing deeply as he stood back up, licking his lips once again as his eyes never left yours. God, why is that so hot? What the fuck? What’s wrong with me?
He turned away from you, facing where the opening of the door was, the people coming into closer view as your eyes focused on the one in the front, his eyes narrow and full of pierced anger. A wave of exhaustion took over you as you recognized the person, the one with the familiar sound of his jeans and black polished boots.
“I told you to watch her, bastard!” he snarled as he took a hold of the other’s man’s collar, pulling it closer to him with a force that made it seem like he would destroy. “Not taint her with your foul blood.”
“Shut up, Taeyong,” the silver-haired man pushed him away with a palm, dusting off his clothing like it was nothing. He looked back up at him, rolling his eyes with another step closer. “All I did was kiss her, brother.”
Taeyong didn’t look at you, his eyes only angrily shaking at the man in front of him as you tried to connect the dots. Your brain was failing to cooperate, however, because with every mental move you tried to make, you felt like you were going to pass out. Taeyong. Lee Taeyong. Where am I, then?
“And you know what,” he continued, looking down at you to where he had just previously stuck his tongue down the wet walls of your throat. “My blood is your blood, you know that. Can’t you lend the girl to me? She’s a Park after all, how can I resist?”
Taeyong seemed to be annoyed with his answer, waving him away for his behavior as the anger dissipated from his face in an instant, looking down at you instead. In his eyes, you looked perfect, just where you belonged as you were locked down to the ground by his own handmade chains wrapped around your shimmering skin.
It was exactly what you had thought when he just smiled at you, scanning your entire body as your completely wrecked figure overtook his vision. No, Taeyong wasn’t here to save you, you didn’t think he would be the type to do so. He leaned down closer to you, the other man watching as he came down to your level, raising a hand to stroke your hair softly.
“D-Don’t touch me,” you tried to get out, but it was weak, falling from your lips as a desperate whisper that almost pleaded ‘please, touch me’ as they both chuckled, the argument that had taken place merely seconds ago no longer seeming to be an issue. He’s the one who drugged me, isn’t he?
“You’re so much better like this,” his thumb brushed over your lips, the lingering kiss from the silver-haired man still sugary on the edges as he pressed past them, slipping it into your mouth for a brief second before pulling it out. It was filthy, the way your saliva coated his finger until he traced your jawline with the wetness, the liquid drying onto your skin uncomfortably. “So much prettier, pure and hmm—beautiful. Aren’t you just a work of art?”
He didn’t just drug me, he kidnapped me too. His hand trailed to the back of your neck, coldness meeting your hot skin as he chuckled at your heat, eyes darkening from how messy you were getting. Your eyes faltered, looking from Taeyong to the other man, and then back to him; you tried at the chains again, feeling so out of control.
And I think I know exactly why.
Jeno’s hands ran through his now dirtied blond hair for about the hundred time, ruffling it madly as he made his way through the hallway. It had been only a few hours since he had—just lost you from his grasp, and it was already taking a toll on him. Not only did his father just threaten to kill him, he also had held Mark with a knife at his throat, his own son’s throat, threatening to him that he would kill his brother if he didn’t bring you back in one piece.
It didn’t matter how much he reminisced over the events that took place earlier, because your presence was gone almost as quickly as it was there. He had one thing to do, and he fucked that one thing up; if he wasn’t able to find you before the two of you were supposed to have your ‘formal’ engagement, your family would probably wage war against the Lees. Well, it was inevitable at this point, though, since everything that just happened seemed so intricately planned out leading to your disappearance. It wasn’t normal.
Mark walked beside the younger man, scrolling through his tablet on something related to illegal hacking, seeming deeply focused on whatever it was until Jeno reached his room. He looked up from the screen, his eyes shining as he bid him a short goodbye and a promise to inform him if he found anything related to your whereabouts.
It was obvious that Jeno was beyond frustrated: frustrated with himself for being able to lose his hold on you so quickly, and with his father, who didn’t even offer an ounce of help in order to locate you. It was all up to him, and if you weren’t found and brought back to the Lees, other things with happen, things that included your family and his.
He was halfway through stripping his dirty clothing from his body when Mark came bursting into his room, a laptop covering his face as he slammed the door and walked over to his brother, shoving it towards. “I found something—”
The screen reflected a large map of the city, with a point fixated in the middle, marking familiar looking coordinates. Jeno couldn’t quite pinpoint what was so oddly familiar about it, and the longer he looked at the numbers, the more confused he got. He looked up at Mark, blinking a few times. “I don’t get it.”
“Doesn’t it look familiar?” He used his fingers to zoom in on the touchpad, tapping again to show the numbers of the coordinates. “Remember when Father first took us out for a battle, maybe when we were like—thirteen or fourteen? He made us memorize the coordinates.”
Of course Jeno remembered his first battle, the first time he had ever held a gun in his hand away from the training room and the first time he had shot a bullet into a living breathing person. He had earned one of his very rarely occurring praises from his father that day, but it had easy been taken away when he had overestimated himself, ending up with a broken shinbone for a few weeks. It was also the first time he had gotten hurt in battle, and the first time he had lost one.
“Y/N had a phone,” Mark continued, making Jeno perk up from the words. He hadn’t seen you using a phone, not that you were necessarily allowed anyway. “I saw her take one with her before she left, so I traced it down from a few networks to see what was actually on the phone. Whoever kidnapped her had tried to erase everything from the net, but I was able to scavenge the last message sent from her phone.”
With a few taps, he pulled up a encrypted file, typing a few more things to show the actual message. “It was sent from her phone, almost right after we got back home. I couldn’t find who the message was sent to, but it was to a contact that was frequently called in the past few days. But, I was also able to scavenge her last call.”
He pulled up an audio file, pressing it a few times before it played. Your voice came ringing from the device, a voice softer than what Jeno had ever heard from his time with you. “It’s okay, you’ll be okay without me.” The second voice was deep, and Jeno was obviously not expecting it to be a—male.
“But I miss you,” he could hear the slow burn of the other’s voice, the very slight crack that he was able to hear. “Will you come to see me after? Will you visit me soon?” There was a pause, and for a moment Jeno thought that the clip was over, but your soft chuckle was vibrant, startling him a bit; he hadn’t heard you laugh purely before, only in sarcasm or annoyance.
“Maybe one day, Sungie, I’ll see you.”
Jeno couldn’t help but feel like he was eavesdropping on a conversation that he clearly was not supposed to hear, but he continued listening intently, listening to the male let out a dry chuckle. “But you won’t be with me anymore.”
“Shh, I’m always with you, Jisungie.” The audio broke, your voice being the last ringing noise in Jeno and Mark’s ears as Jeno looked over to his older brother, confusion spreading across his face. Who was she talking to?
“It’s her younger brother,” Mark seemed to have read his mind, taking the laptop back into his hands as he plopped down on the bed, starting to type rapidly. “I tracked him down too, Park Jisung, eighteen. Lives in the Park mansion on the other side of the city, where Y/N used to live. I’m assuming that these coordinates were also sent to his contact, which means whoever kidnapped her also wanted to tie in her family with this.”
It was all a sudden blur to Jeno, it didn’t even seem like it was real as he thought about how coincidental the entire situation was. You were kidnapped, apparently last tracked down at the exact coordinates that he had his first battle at, along with a message sent to your brother basically asking him to come there. It didn’t even seem a little bit right.
After a little more blanking out, it hit him. He clapped his hands together loudly, startling Mark as he sat down next to him. “Remember what Father said on that day? He said that one day we wouldn’t be part of NCT Lee anymore, because we would have evolved into our own people.”
Mark scrunched up his face, nodding for him to continue. “He told us that all of our skills would go use eventually, and it wouldn’t be for the Lees, it wouldn’t be for the family anymore because fighting isn’t about family. Winning isn’t about family.”
“I don’t get it, where—are you going with this?”
“Listen!” Jeno threw up his hands in slight frustration. “He told us that clans never lasted for as long as they thought they would, and that NCT would have to be reorganized once again with all of us included. That’s what the coordinates are for, he wanted us to memorize them because that’s where the beginning of the new clan would be. Or—rather, group.”
He pointed straight at the longitudinal coordinate, the numbers flashing on the screen brightly as he did so.
“NCT 127.”
There was a silky blindfold drawn over your eyes when you woke up again, the initial haze draining your body once again as you sat up, the chains having been removed from your body. But you were tied together now, ropes enclosed your wrists together behind your back, making you struggle.
A hand yanked off the ribbon around your eyes, bright light finally filling your vision. You could feel your head spinning, probably from whatever they had given you previously. “Aw, pretty Y/N is finally awake—”
It was the same sweet voice as before, and you watched as a figure appeared in front of you. You were on some kind of couch now, no longer in the same white room full of painful looking chains, and there was someone sitting across from you. The silver-haired man leaned down to your level, clicking his tongue in mock pity.
“Who are you?” The words came out groggy, almost as if you had been dehydrated for days as your mouth involuntary salivated, making you press your dry lips together. “Who—”
“You can call me Haechan,” he cut you off, his hand moving to your jaw as he forced your face upwards, his own face inching closer to yours. “Oh, baby, it’s so sad that you can’t be mine. Look at you, you’re gorgeous, hmm. I even brought you a gift, darling.” His last words came out as a low hiss, sending shivers through your body as he moved away, letting the person in front of you come into view.
You could’ve sworn your heart stopped in your chest as you saw the familiar dyed hair masking the dark eyes of your younger brother; his eyes were closed, probably dozed off from the way his stance was relaxed, though he had the same ropes around his wrists and ankles. How did he get here? Why did they take him too?
As you opened your mouth to speak, Haechan leaned over to you, untying your wrists just to yank one towards him, a syringe shining in his hands as you tried wriggling away. No wonder you were feeling so out of reality, dozing in and out so quickly, your heart rate faltering as you could barely even keep your breathing normal. “Heroin,” you whispered as you gave up against his grip, wincing slightly as he injected you with it.
“That’s right, baby girl,” he answered softly, contrasting from how he had just given you some of the most dangerously addictive stuff on the planet, pushing you down against the couch as he retied your wrists. “You’re starting to love it, sweetheart, and I’ll keep giving it to you if you continue behaving like a good girl. Hmm?”
Haechan’s hand stroked your hair as he leaned you against the soft cushions, wandering his eyes over your face as he saw you fall into the drug, being thrown into a pleasurable rush, resulting in you letting out a quiet sound. “Feels good, hmm? You like it?”
You couldn’t answer him, your mind being thrown into another reality as you foggily saw him moving over to Jisung, pulling out his arm in the same fashion. “No,” you cried out, launching yourself forward until you were on the ground, your knees grazing painfully against the wooden surface as Haechan looked down at you in awe, his hand drawing back. “Don’t—” He saw your look of desperation, a look that said ‘please, don’t drug my baby brother’ as you struggled against the ties, trying to stand up in your position.
“You don’t want me to give him some too?” He threw the syringe on the other couch, pulling you up by the waist and throwing you back across from your brother. His fingers lingered on your body for a second longer before he pulled away, tucking a hair away behind your ear as he watched your eyes flutter shut, and then you force them open. “Don’t be selfish, baby, let him have some too.”
“N-No, don’t—please,” you choked out as he took a step back, hooking your legs around his to keep him in place. “Don’t—give him any, please. Don’t touch him—please...”
Haechan wished he could’ve given into your pleads, seeing your eyes turn glossy with each move he made. He glanced over to where the door was, knowing that his older brother would come in at any second to see if he was doing his job properly. All he had to do was put you in a position where you wouldn’t be able to refuse him, and Taeyong was smart enough to know that you could bare the pain against yourself.
But if it was your family, that was a different situation. Parks did everything for their family, fought for pride and not victory, that was something he learned at a very young age. Family was the last sacrifice that a Park would make, the last sacrifice after themselves. “Please don’t drug him, H-Haechan—”
You weren’t sure if using his name would have convinced him not to, already having seen that he was hesitating from the way you were looking so sincere and affected by just the idea of Jisung being drugged. It wasn’t fake, for once, the emotion was just as real as you showed him, because no, you didn’t want your brother to be harshly drugged the way he had just done you.
But he didn’t speak, only pulling your legs off of him and smoothing it down to the ground, wondering if he should tie your ankles together. You watched as he let his hand wander, rubbing your thighs in a slow fashion, making you believe that he was focusing on you instead of him. It was working, but only for a second until he pushed your body back against the couch with a hard force, knocking the air out of your lungs as he grabbed the syringe again.
“I have to.”
April 19
Jeno knew that he shouldn’t have waited the next morning to go after his lead on you, but his father had refused to send him out on the same day, which seemed contradictory from his words before. He expected that he would’ve agreed immediately, considering he wanted you back that much before, but it just seemed to change in the matter of a few hours.
There was something off about the whole situation, and Jeno didn’t know if it was just his inner self telling him that something was wrong, or if he was overthinking it all. Maybe your entire disappearance was a whole mystery, which was right, it just seemed all too perfect for it to be real. There was no way that Mark would have been able to track you down that easily, usually if someone went missing from the Lee crew, it would take weeks for them to be tracked down, where they were usually found dead.
What was even more confusing was that someone had knowingly kidnapped you, which was what Jeno still couldn’t wrap his head around. They had contacted your brother from the Park household, so was there a possibility that this was a feud between the mysterious 127 gang that was only a myth from his father’s old stories. Yet they had kidnapped you under his own nose, right beside him with the knowledge that you were taken along with the Lees for a mission, which was something that no one but his team and his father knew.
“Have you seen Donghyuck?” Mark snapped him out of his thoughts, making him look up from his spot in the lobby. “He said he was going underground for dealing before we went out, but I don’t think he ever came back. I just called him like four times, he’s not picking up and I can’t trace his phone—”
Jeno sighed, shaking his head from his thoughts at the mention of his younger brother as he stood up. “Just hope he didn’t knock up some girl again; are you ready? Shouldn’t we have left like—ten minutes ago?” Mark nodded, looking down at his phone before stuffing it in his pocket.
“Yeah, the rest of the guys are in the van already. Also, Father only gave us one today, I asked him for two but he said we wouldn’t need that many people.” He rolled his eyes slightly at his own words, gesturing Jeno towards the door. “Whatever, I think he wants us to find her because we technically lost her, so we only got five other guys. Don’t tell him I said this but, I think he’s kind of crazy.”
“Like, Y/N just got kidnapped and she’s one of the highest ranked soldiers in all of NCT, shouldn’t that like—ring some warning bells? Shouldn’t that mean we should bring more men? Unless he’s wishing us death.” Mark sounded fed up as he spoke, opening the doorway to the large garage, making his way to the van with Jeno following suit.
“I wouldn’t really be surprised if he wanted us to die,” Jeno mumbled in response, running a hand through his head as he climbed into the back of the—not very large vehicle, sitting beside Mark and his technical gadgets. “But he’s obviously expecting us to bring her back before some war breaks out or something.”
It was true, there would be an easy war started with a small match if the Parks found out that the Lees had lost you, their literal prized soldier. And the worst part was that it be completely in the hands of Jeno, the person who was supposed to fucking marry you. He let out a strangled sigh, placing his head in his hands as the van started its engine, driving off to the destination.
At this point, Jeno wished that he was married to you, rather than looking for you all over the city while having his head, and his brother’s head, on the death toll basically waiting to be chopped off if you weren’t brought back in one piece. Wait, no, why would I want to marry her? She’s a bitch.
He glanced up to Mark, who was hastily working on his laptop with something. Mark liked you, at least from what Jeno was able to perceive, he had seen the way you had calmly talked to him the day before him, in a van similar to this one. You didn’t look like you wanted to kill him, not the way you usually snarled at Jeno whenever he spoke. Mark even called you by your first name, which was weird hearing, considering you and him usually just addressed each other on a last name basis.
It had hit him earlier that day that you certainly didn’t want to be inside of his house as much as he didn’t want you in his house, especially from how you talked so highly about your family as if they were the only thing that mattered on the planet. Well, to you, family was everything. Loyalty was everything, just like you had said.
“She’s not as bad as you think she is,” a voice came from beside him, startling Jeno as he looked over at Mark, whose eyes never left his screen. “I know what you’re thinking. You’ve just been a complete ass to her, even though you’re the one she’s marrying. You know that she was supposed to marry Taeyong, right?”
“Yeah, I—wait, what?”
“I assumed that Father didn’t tell you, clearly from the way that you were, uh, behaving around her. Taeyong was the one who saw Y/N on a mission and told Father he—wanted her, I think? And you know Father, well, he’d do anything for his oldest son. So, he sent a letter of engagement. But Y/N is five years younger than him, so the Parks declined. I mean, they declined but not really, they still wanted the peace treaty, so they said they would give her hand to someone who was the same age as her. And, well it went down to you, since Donghyuck wasn’t, well—considered pure blood.”
So that’s why Taeyong was always lingering near her hallway, so he wasn’t fucking one of the servants. Jeno scratched his head confusedly. “Why didn’t I know this? Wait, how do you know this?”
“Donghyuck told me everything, yesterday actually. Taeyong was kind of—the first person Y/N when she got to the palace, and I swear he looked like he was gonna eat her or something. I knew that he was the one who wanted her in the first place, but he didn’t really seem to care that you were engaged to her, so I didn’t think it was really that big of a deal. He kept trying to go into her room, apparently according to some of the servants, and I even saw him once. But, I haven’t seen him since yesterday. I don’t think he knows that she’s gone...”
Something didn’t feel right, for about maybe the third time in the same day. So Taeyong was the one who wanted to marry you, that explained why you had kept saying you were here because of the Lees. She said it on the first day, that someone in the house wanted her here because they saw her during a battle or something. I thought she was lying—
The van came to an abrupt stop, making everyone lurch forward with a combined yelp. “What the fuck happened?” Jeno called for the driver, who had just survived some serious whiplash. “Hey! Why’d you stop? There’s nothing—”
The backdoor of the van slid open with a quick motion, making Jeno and Mark turn tense up, with Jeno aiming his gun straight at the now open door. His hands loosened as he saw who it was, the familiar man he had known so well taking a step up into the van, kneeling to avoid hitting his head against the top. The rest of the men lowered their guns, looking at each other in confusion as he turned to Jeno, a smirk on his face.
“I knew you would come, brother.”
“Y/N, Y/N, wake up,” you felt cool hands on your cheeks, contrasting from the warmth coming from your body as you heard the recognizable deep voice. Your eyes fluttered a little, opening enough for you to see Jisung, his eyes wide and concentrated on you. “Are you okay? Y/N, wait, wait, no don’t close your eyes!”
You took in a short breath, feeling at your wrists to see that they were free, your arms moving slowly as you tried to control your movements. The memories from earlier surged through your head in one motion, making you force your eyes open at your brother. “Did he inject you? Sungie—did he—”
You let your hand slide down his arm, your eyes falling on the puncture mark in the middle, making you let out a painful sigh. He only gave him one dose, right? That’s why he’s still cold. It wasn’t that much. Right? More means he would end up like me. “Inject me? What—what do you mean?”
As he hoisted you up, you looked around the room, scanning it to see no trace of both Taeyong or that—Haechan guy. With another sharp breath, you let yourself lean against the cushions, feeling completely drained out. “Do you know how you got here? Where were you? H-How did they find you? Did you leave the house for a mission, what happened?”
Jisung shook his head, his hair bouncing around with him as he looked at you worriedly and then looked to the ground. “I—You texted me. I mean, I don’t think it was you anymore, but it was from your number. There were coordinates, and it said that you would meet me—there. I told Mom that I was going underground, and I—took a car. It was the center of Seoul. I went into one of the parking garages, and that’s all I remember until—now.”
You hummed, brushing your hair away from your face as you stood up slowly, seeing the broken ropes on the ground and glancing back at your brother. “You got out of the ties, like I taught you?” He nodded, a small smile on his face as you couldn’t help but feel a little proud, reaching over to ruffle his hair.
You knew how much he hated when you did that, but he received it with a soft expression. It hadn’t even been too long since you had actually seen him, but it had felt like too long of a time, and even though this wasn’t the most ideal reunion, it was better than nothing. You had really thought you wouldn’t see him for a long time.
“How about we get out of here, hmm?”
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hi guys, here’s the third chapter! it’s gonna get wow very spicy in the fourth part like VERY SPICY, and i won’t make you guys wait as long this time!! expect the fourth part before the dreamies comeback?!?! i hope this chapter wasn’t too boring because there’s no...action between y/n and jeno but this is important for future chapters!! :) love y’all, stay safe and healthy ♡
#a marriage of inconvenience#nct mafia au#nct jeno#jeno x reader#nct jeno x reader#jeno x you#jeno#lee jeno#haechan#lee haechan#haechan au#jeno au#nct dream mafia au#jeno mafia au#haechan mafia au#lee donghyuck#donghyuck#renjun#mark lee#lee mark#nct mark x reader#jeno smut#jeno angst#jeno fluff#jeno crack#nct dream jeno#nct dream jaemin#nct taeyong#nct 127 mark#nct 127
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The Sopranos’ Funniest Moments
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The Sopranos’ genius was in telling structured stories with well-established themes, while still aping life in all its dirty, disorganised, contradictory, open-ended glory. The show wasn’t a drama, or a comedy, or a tragedy, or a farce. It was all of them. It was none of them. It was life.
Creator David Chase and his crack team of writers never lost sight of the essential truth that no matter how cruel, harrowing or horrid life becomes, it’s always laced through with laughs: oftentimes the laughter and the horror rise in tandem.
Here, then, are some of The Sopranos’ funniest moments, most of them enmeshed with the macabre, the monstrous and the melancholy.
South of the Border
S1, E9 ‘Boca’
In the machismo-drenched world of the mafia, even going down on your girlfriend is seen as a sign of sexual weakness, and quite possibly – in the non-PC words of Uncle Junior himself – ‘a sign that you’re a fanouk.’
Apparently, ‘they’ think ‘if you’ll suck p***y, you’ll suck anything.’
Whoever ‘they’ are.
News of Uncle Junior’s oral talents reaches Tony from a gossip chain, the final link in which is Carmella. Tony’s reaction, and the way in which he baits Uncle Junior with the intel on the golf course (culminating in Tony singing ‘South of the Border, down Mexico way’) is equal parts childish to hilarious – but funniest of all is how this schoolboy teasing serves as the pre-cursor to a Mafia war.
As Tony later tells Carmella: ‘Cunnilingus and psychiatry brought us to this.’
Guess Whose Back?
S1, E10 ‘A Hit is a Hit’
Christopher sets Adrianna up in a recording studio to help realise her dream of becoming a music mogul. Things don’t go well. Her new band – the woeful Visiting Day – is ready to walk after a long and soul-sapping session during which they’ve produced nothing of worth. Christopher wastes no time taking up the mantle of manager to convince them that the show must go on. It’s fair to say that being motivational doesn’t come naturally to Christopher. Or, rather, it does, it’s just that his methods of motivation are rather more violent than most. First, Christopher throws the ex-addict lead singer a bag of crystal meth and orders him to take it. When that doesn’t work, he takes the only reasonable course of action left open to him and smashes a guitar over the man’s back.
There’s No Place Like Home
S2,E4 ‘Commendatori’
Paulie is incredibly excited to be visiting the motherland, and arrives full of romantic notions about Italy. All of these are systematically stamped out, mostly by Paulie himself, of whom an Italian gangster remarks at dinner, after Paulie requests tomato ketchup for his spaghetti: ‘And you thought the Germans were classless pieces of shit.’
Paulie’s beatific little smile as he drinks in the squalor of New Jersey on the ride home from the airport is pitch perfect.
It’s the Jaaaccckkeett!
S2,E8 ‘Full Leather Jacket’
From the moment Richie Aprile is released from prison he’s on a collision course with Tony. In classic Sopranos’ style, though, the torch paper isn’t lit by Richie shacking up with Tony’s sister, or paralysing their mutual friend Beansie, but by the fall-out from a spurned jacket. Not just any jacket, though: ‘the’ jacket; the one Richie took off Rocco di Meo after an adolescent scrap.
‘Cocksucker had the toughest reputation in Essex County, but he never came back after I got through with him,’ Richie tells Tony, as he gifts him the infamous garment.
‘He later died of Alzheimer’s,’ adds Junior.
The look on Tony’s face as he tries to look grateful for ‘the jacket’ is almost as funny as the look Richie later wears in Carmella’s kitchen when he notices the sainted jacket hanging from the shoulders of the maid’s husband.
I Ain’t Afraid of No Ghost
S2, E9 ‘From Where to Eternity’
When Christopher briefly dies on the operating table after an assassination attempt, he returns from the brink of death with visions and dispatches from the afterlife. Paulie takes these reports to heart, divining in them a supernatural threat. Not only does Christopher tell Paulie that the souls of his many victims still follow him everywhere he goes, he also brings back an oblique warning: ‘Three o’clock’.
This cryptic curse has Paulie slamming bolt upright in his bed each night with a scream on his lips. First he visits Tony, who tries to lead Paulie back to sanity.
‘You eat steak?’ Tony asks.
‘What the fuck you talkin’ about?’
‘If you were in India, you would go to hell for that.’
‘I’m not in India,’ says Paulie. ‘What do I give a fuck?’
‘That’s what I’m trying to tell you. None of this shit means a goddamn thing.’
Unconvinced, Paulie visits a spiritualist psychic, who ‘confirms’ that Paulie is being stalked by ghosts. ‘That’s satanic black magic!’ rails a terrified Paulie, ‘Sick shit’, before hurling a chair at the ‘ghosts’ and screaming ‘Fuckin’ qu***s!’ at them. Finally, he visits his priest to tell him he’s cutting off his donations to the church on the grounds that he should’ve been protected from hauntings. I defy you not to chuckle at the baleful glare Paulie gives the Virgin Mary on his way out of the church.
A Very Un-woke Wake
S3, E2 ‘Proshai , Livushka’
Livia Soprano – Tony’s murderously manipulative mother – proved just as divisive in death as she was in life, her demise precipitating a wake that was as awkward and corrosive for the characters experiencing it as it was rich and funny for us schmucks at home.
Tony never wanted any of Janice’s ‘California Bullshit’ at the gathering he and Carmella hosted at their home (or ‘that house, up on that hill’, as Livia would have called it). Janice being Janice, though, vetoes her brother’s ruling. She asks each of the assembled guests to share a thought, a memory of their mother, which – given that Livia was a sharp-tongued, anti-social harridan – doesn’t produce heart-warming results. No wonder the unknown man descending the stairs in the background behind them all decides to about-turn and get the hell out of there.
‘She never minced words,’ says Hesch, trying his hardest to accentuate the positive, ‘Between… brain and mouth… there was no interlocutor.’
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Movies
The Sopranos: saluting the greatest TV drama ever made
By Jamie Andrew
TV
The Sopranos: Explaining the Final Scene
By Jamie Andrew
Christopher’s rambling, drug-fuelled, ad lib on the nature of existence, rebirth and doppelgangers is a treat, the sort of new-age snash David Brent might have conjured up while fully sober. The silence doesn’t last for long, though, not least because Carmella has spent the duration of the tense memorial knocking back booze like a cooze-hound on Spring Break, and is ready to unleash hell.
Merry Stressmas
S3, E10 ‘…To Save Us All from Satan’s Power’
In the absence of Big Pussy Bonpensiero – taken on a long boat-ride to oblivion – the amply proportioned Bobby Baccala is the natural choice to become the new Satriales’ Santa. Except he doesn’t want to do it. He’s too shy.
‘The fucking boss of this family told you you’re gonna be Santa Claus,’ Paulie tells Bobby menacingly. ‘You’re Santa Claus. So shut the fuck up about it!’
The surly and reluctant Bobby proves a lacklustre substitute, an observation that’s articulated perfectly by Paulie when he says, ‘Fuckin’ ho hum if you ask me.’
It’s not just Bobby’s mafia colleagues that like to drop the F-bomb at Xmas. Even a little boy, unimpressed by Bobby’s schtick, issues a heart-felt: ‘Fuck you, Santa.’
God bless us. Every one.
Two Assholes Lost in the Woods
S3, E11 ‘Pine Barrens’
The Pine Barrens was the episode that cleaved most closely to all-out comedy, pitting hot-headed anti-survivalists Christopher and Paulie against a runaway Russian they’d failed to kill. The darkly comic shit-show unfolded in the unforgiving, snow-filled foliage of the eponymous Pine Barrens, where Tony and Bobby were eventually summoned to rescue the hapless pair.
It’s hard to pick a comedy highlight from this episode, as it’s chock-full of them, but highlights include Tony losing it at the sight of Bobby Baccala’s hunting attire (if James Gandolfini’s laughter seems particularly genuine here, try googling some behind-the-scenes facts – you won’t be disappointed); Chris and Paulie noshing down on sauce sachets like they were a gourmet meal, and the following misunderstanding between Paulie, Chris and Tony thanks to poor mobile reception:
Tony: (garbled, on phone) It’s a bad connection, so I’m gonna talk fast. The guy you’re looking for is an ex-commando! He killed sixteen Chechen rebels single-handed.
Paulie: Get the fuck outta here.
Tony: Yeah, nice, huh? He was with the Interior Ministry. Guy’s some kind of Russian green beret. This guy cannot come back to tell this story. You understand?
[line breaks]
Paulie: (to Christopher) You’re not gonna believe this. He killed sixteen Czechoslovakians. The guy was an interior decorator.
Chris: His house looked like shit.
You Talkin’ To Me?
S4, E6 ‘Everybody Hurts’
Artie Bucco, Tony’s boyhood best pal, is a regular, hard-working chef. Even so, he’s frequently seduced by the luxurious criminal lifestyle he sees lapping around the fringes of his wonder-bread world. When a business deal to promote ‘the new French vodka’ goes awry and Artie finds himself $50k out of pocket to a swindling huckster he decides to channel his inner Mafioso and get his money back the Soprano way. Unfortunately, his inner Mafioso is no more ferocious than that possessed by any average member of the show’s audience – as much as proximity to Tony might convince us otherwise – and he gets the crap kicked out of him. Before that, though, his little Taxi Driver moment in the mirror, complete with mid-life crisis ear-ring and mobster posturing (‘Fucking shoes you’re wearing. What are they? Designer?’) is at once endearing, pathetic and very, very funny.
The mirror is no accident. He’s looking at us, looking at him, looking at ourselves.
Telephone Tough Guy
S4, E9 ‘Whoever Did This’
While Ralph Cifaretto is probably most widely remembered as a sort-of gangster Loki – a mirth-wracked trickster with a penchant for mayhem – most of his misdeeds were so loathsome that even the wider mafia disapproved: cheating on his grieving partner, beating a young pregnant girl to death, burning a horse alive (come on, of course that was him). Still, he did make us laugh, though, didn’t he?
No more so than when he pranked Paulie’s dopey-yet-adorable old mother in her nursing home (‘It’s a retirement community!’), announcing himself as Detective Mike Hunt, Beaver Falls, from the Pennsylvania police department. Not only did Ralph claim that Paulie had been caught pleasuring a cub scout in a public bathroom, but also that a small rodent had been discovered in Paulie’s rectal passage. ‘A gerbil, ma’am’.
Ralph laughed his head off.
Tony later removed it.
A Truth Injection
S4, E10 ‘The Strong, Silent Type’
Drug interventions are worthy and solemn rituals – they certainly aren’t supposed to be funny – but there’s something delicious about a room full of self-involved sociopaths with no impulse control and an insatiable appetite for pleasure assembling to pass judgement on Christopher essentially for having no impulse control and an insatiable appetite for pleasure. Christopher is at least self-aware enough to lobby this back in the faces of his supposed rescuers, pointing out that Silvio likes to sample his sex-workers; that Paulie’s hot-head almost dragged the Newark family into war with the Russian mob, and that Tony’s epicurean compulsions will probably kill him more quickly than Christopher’s drugs.
From the moment a bewildered Christopher emerges from his bedroom to find both families – blood and work – camped out in his living room, the laughs just keep coming, all the way through to the (inevitable) explosion of violence at the scene’s climax.
Christopher instantly recognises the host of the intervention, Dominic Paladino, as ‘the guy who broke into Stew Leonards that time and stole all those pork loins.’
‘Yes,’ replies a sheepish Dominic. ‘But… that’s not why I’m here today.’
Especial mirth-based mentions must go to Silvio and Paulie (the latter’s reaction to Christopher’s narcotic-related manhood problems is priceless), and their refusal to play along with the ‘care-frontation’.
‘When I came to open up one morning, there you were with your head half in the toilet. Your hair was in the toilet water. Disgusting,’ says Silvio, reading awkwardly from what is possibly the most unnecessary aide de memoire ever written.
Leave it to Paulie to lay the smackdown on this particular brand of ‘California bullshit’: ‘I don’t write nothing down,’ he says, ‘so I’ll keep this short and sweet. You’re weak. You’re out of control. And you’re becoming an embarrassment to yourself and everybody else.’
Drugs are bad. Mmmkay?
Dead Good Food
S5, E7 ‘In Camelot’
When Junior realises he can get respite from his house arrest through attending family funerals he starts to exaggerate and exploit ever more spurious links to get him out of the house for a few hours. While all around him are wracked with grief, his is the only face with a smile on it, enjoying the change of scenery, enjoying the food, wondering why everyone has to be so maudlin.
In a darkly funny scene he happily extols the virtues of the spread while attending the wake of a teenage boy. ‘Chicken’s nice and spicy, huh?’ he beams at a fellow mourner.
A Grave Error
S5, E9 ‘Unidentified Black Males’
When Tony agrees to pick up the tab for the headstone of a New York soldier who was slain, unbeknownst to him, by his own cousin, his men manage to add insult to injury.
We see the headstone. At the graveside. During the funeral service. And it says:
Peeps.
‘Peeps?’ spits Tony. ‘It’s a fuckin’ nickname! His family name is Pepperelli!’
Silvio hunkers down into full middle-management mode. ‘They’re gonna re-do it. Fuckin’ J.C. He’s dyslexic.’
‘What’s that got to do with it?’ asks an incredulous Tony.
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You could fill a book with The Sopranos’ funniest moments – Paulie’s rant about shoelaces, Bobby B botching a publicity shooting, Silvio’s poker-table tantrum, Little Carmine’s malapropisms, to name but a handful – so by necessity we’ve had to leave a lot out. What are some of yours?
The post The Sopranos’ Funniest Moments appeared first on Den of Geek.
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Rogues And Charlatans | 1
Pairing: Yoongi x Seokjin
Word Count: 3,212
Summary: What is a gang leader supposed to do when his longtime rival shows up at his door, beaten and begging for help? Defend their honor, of course.
Warnings & Genre: Mafia!au, Fluff, and poorly attempted crack. There will be light violence, but nothing overly graphic. Maybe one person gets shot point blank. As of now, I don’t think I’ll be putting in any smut, but who knows. Basically, this isn’t a dark and serious mafia fic. It’s just a bunch of crooks in love, y’all.
Notes: So this has been sitting in my WIP forever, and I decided to release it to give you guys something to read. There will only be 3 or 4 chapters of this. Enjoy
The rain beat heavily against the windows, the only sound breaking through the silence in the richly furnished study. Yoongi sighed, burrowing further into his favorite chair before the fire and took a sip of the whiskey he’d been nursing for a while now. Comfort at it’s finest.
This was the first chance he’d gotten to truly relax this entire week, as they’d been ass deep in drama with some new kids thinking they could just walk into Yoongi’s town and take over. The new gang was young and brash, not understanding the importance of playing the game right and having respect for the older players. Yoongi may not be considered old agewise, but he’d been at this for a long time. He’s fought and clawed his way to the top since he was thirteen years old, had done so many things that had chipped away at his soul each time, and no one was going to take his throne.
Today he had finally met up with Park, the leader of the new gang, and had issued an ultimatum. Respect the boundaries, leave his businesses alone, or he would run them out of town. The kid hadn’t done too much damage, just poked his nose where it didn’t belong. It had probably helped that the kid looked more like some ditzy high schooler, with his baby face and sweater paws. He wondered if the kid had ever even held a gun before. How was he the leader of a gang? Whatever was going on there, he could afford to be merciful for now.
Yoongi was considering heading to bed when frantic banging suddenly came from his entryway. He glanced at the clock, grabbing the gun he kept next to his chair when he saw it was two in the morning. Anyone coming by at this hour was either giving him bad news or was bad news.
He turned the safety off and crept slowly towards the door and peered out of the peephole. He couldn’t see anything, which made him even more worried. Keeping his gun at the ready, he unlocked the door and peered out, finding a body on his doorstep. It looked like they had collapsed after knocking, but they were still breathing. Their suit, which had obviously once been expensive and well-tailored, was ripped and covered in blood and dirt. He was soaked through from the rain, and Yoongi guessed they must have been out in it for a while. He aimed his gun at the lump, kicking it lightly.
“Hey, who the hell are you and what do you want.”
They groaned but didn’t answer him, so Yoongi used his foot to roll the body over.
“Shit! Seokjin?!”
He put his gun away and crouched in front of the man, wincing at the sight of the once immaculate face now covered in cuts and bruises. The worst was along his jaw, and he could almost hear the whining that Seokjin would do once he learned it would scar.
“Yoongi...couldn’t…” Seokjin hisses as he tries to sit back up, holding his arm close to him like it was broken. “Sorry...didn’t know where else to go.”
“Alright. Let’s get you inside. If you die of pneumonia on my porch it won’t be nearly as satisfying as killing you myself. I’ve waited twelve years for this moment.”
“Hah, now’s your chance,” Seokjin gave a pained chuckle as Yoongi helped him up, draping the other’s arm across his shoulders.
It was difficult, but Yoongi managed to drag him into the warm study, shutting the door before helping him take off the sodden suit jacket and tie. He gently set him into his chair in front of the fire, trying his best not to jostle what seemed to be severe breaks and bruises all over. Everything else Seokjin was wearing was soaked too, but he wasn’t about to mess with that right now. He filled up a glass of whiskey and brought it to Seokjin, who was gazing into the fire with something that looked a whole lot like despair. Yoongi had never seen a look like that on the usually annoying man. He was now officially disturbed.
“You able to tell me what happened?”
“I…” Seokjin winced as he tried to talk through a split lip.”I was supposed to meet up with the leader of that new gang from Daegu. They have Jungkook. They promised to give him back in return for a partnership in one of my businesses. It was a trap. They ambushed me in a warehouse. Drugged me, punched me around a bit. Managed to jump out of the window to escape, but it was the second floor, hence this,” he said as he gestured towards the arm he kept close to his chest. “You were the nearest person I could get to on foot.”
“I’m going to kill Park. I told him to stop fucking around and play the game right.”
“It wasn’t him. Jiminie wouldn’t do that. Besides, he’s from Busan, not Daegu.”
Yoongi didn’t understand the annoyance he felt hearing Seokjin calling the kid cute nicknames.
“Jiminie? Why the fuck are you calling him Jiminie?” Yoongi growled, already envisioning how slowly he’d rip the kid to pieces.
“Oh, uh. He and Jungkook are seeing each other,” Seokjin chuckled lowly.
Yoongi quirked an eyebrow in disbelief. “You’re letting your little brother date a rival gang boss? Are you insane?”
“I was upset at first too, but really, they are cute together. Jimin dotes on him, and Kook is equally crazy about him. He’s been respectful towards me and listens when I give him advice. He’s going to be furious when he finds out,” Seokjin’s lip looks wobbly to Yoongi, and he really hopes he’s not about to have his hands full of a weeping man in a moment. He should probably get Seokjin dry and in bed, maybe get him patched up. They could figure out the next step in the morning.
Yoongi sighs and pulls out his phone, sending several texts before he clears his throat, looking Seokjin over again.
“I just sent for Namjoon. I need his help if we’re going to get you upstairs into one of the bedrooms. Also sent for our doctor. I’d rather not have you bleeding all over my antique furniture.”
Seokjin sniffs loudly before smiling gently at Yoongi. “Look at you not letting me die. I knew you cared.”
Yoongi’s can feel his face heating up, turning quickly to answer the knock on the study door.
“Nah. Just don’t want DNA evidence all over the place. Harder to lie to the authorities then.”
Seokjin snickers softly and Yoongi feels a strange sort of pride for making the other feel better, albeit temporarily. He tried to reason with himself that it was merely the game. That he only cared because Seokjin and he were old players that had to band against someone threatening the way things were. A little voice that he promptly shut up was teasing that there was much more to it.
He swung the door open for his sleep ruffled right-hand man.
“Hey, boss. You called? Hobi will be here soon. He was working on a patient.”
“Yeah, we have a guest. You can set him up in the room across from mine. Have the Doc look over his injuries when he gets here. He’ll probably have to borrow some clothes from you too because he’s got shoulders the size of the great wall and would destroy my shirts.”
“Complain all you like, Yoongles. That just means you’re looking.”
“On second thought, let him die.”
Seokjin smiles as much as his cut lip will allow, holding his arms up for Namjoon as he walked around the chair to pick him up.
“This is so humiliating, but carry me if you must.”
Yoongi snorts, “Don’t act like you wouldn’t demand to be princess carried everywhere if you could get away with it.”
“Why, Yoongi. I assumed that’s what you hired this Daddy Longlegs for.”
Namjoon huffs a laugh as he lifts Seokjin up and heads for the stairs.
“If you want to see it, it only happens when he’s drunk. Suddenly his legs just stop working, it’s the strangest thing.”
Yoongi’s face is bright red as he follows behind, Seokjin’s teasing eyes watching him over Namjoon’s shoulder.
“I hope you both fall down the stairs.”
“Aw, you couldn’t live without me, boss. Literally. You’d die because you’d forget to eat.”
Yoongi rolls his eyes and walks around the pair to open the door for them. The room is every bit as grand as his own. He’s done well for himself and it shows. Most of the money he makes goes towards taking care of his people and the causes in town he cares about (because he’s not a total asshole. He has to live here too), but his home is one of the things he likes to splurge on.
The room he’s set Seokjin in is decorated almost as well as something you’d see in a royal palace. It’s spacious and lavishly decorated in royal blues and bright golds. He tried hard to make it look impressive without bordering near gaudy. He hoped Seokjin liked it.
He hoped he liked it? Who the fuck cares if he likes it, Yoongi! He’s your rival, your enemy! Who cares how pretty he’d look wrapped in those expensive linens.
“Joonie? Can you set me down in the bathroom, please? You can bring me clothes in there. I need to get some of this muck off of me before I get in that bed. I feel disgusting.”
Yoongi felt a feral growl building in his throat. Joonie?
“Sure, but be careful, Mr. Kim. Doc will have my head if you hurt yourself more.”
Namjoon sets Seokjin down near the shower then leaves, shutting the door behind him. He raises an eyebrow at Yoongi as he heads to his own room, the other following behind.
“So, boss. You wanna tell me why your, and I quote, ‘mortal enemy and everlasting pain in your ass’ is getting ready to spend the night? And all the beat up like that?” Namjoon asks as he rifles through his drawers for something suitable.
“Some new gang from Daegu has Jungkook and said they’d trade for him. They lied. Fucked him up instead and he barely got away.”
Namjoon turns to him with a frown, a pile of folded clothes in his hands.
“They got Kook? That’s not good. Not that I don’t think he’ll be able to hold his own - he will. But still, fuck.”
“Are you worried about a rival gang member? Did I not put you through Mafia 101 when I hired you? You do know he’s Seokjin’s heir, right?”
Namjoon chuckles, walking back towards the bedroom as Yoongi trails behind him.
“Jungkook is a good kid. And you’re the only one that insists on acting like Seokjin is your mortal enemy. Everyone else is convinced he’s totally in love with you. Do we compete sometimes? Sure. But they’ve helped us out a lot as well, and Seokjin’s never acted against us. Hell, I’m pretty sure he’s the one that shut that Sehun kid up a few years ago when he was making death threats against you.”
Yoongi decided the amount he’d been blushing today was unacceptable and needed to stop.
“That’s just because of our pact.”
Namjoon rolled his eyes as they entered the bedroom.
“Ah yes, the pact. That someday you’ll meet in the middle of the street and duel western style. That it’s the only way either of you will die. Stupid.”
“It’s not stupid. It’s honorable.”
“It’s ridiculous. First of all, every street around here has cameras so everyone would have footage. Secondly, I doubt either of you would go through with it.”
Yoongi grunted his disapproval, which affected Namjoon in no way as the other simply ignored him and knocked on the bathroom door, handing the clothes to Seokjin without looking.
Yoongi and Namjoon both waited in the bedroom in case Seokjin called for help, both of them making a show of playing around on their phones.
After a few moments, the door cracked open and cleaner version of Kim Seokjin emerged. He stood shakily as Namjoon rushed over and lifted him gently, walking him towards the massive bed. The doctor finally arrived, knocking loudly against the wall as he entered.
“Finally home! What seems to be the problem?”
Seokjin peered over Namjoon’s shoulder while he was being deposited into the bed, sighing dramatically.
“Jung Hoseok. Of course it’s you. I should really have you killed for playing both sides, you know. You can’t be the doctor for both of our gangs.”
Hoseok laughs as he joins the others by the bed, setting his instrument bag on the nightstand.
“I’m a doctor, Mr. Kim. I have no sides. I simply go where I’m needed.”
“And you needed to be here fucking me over?”
“Technically I’m here so Namjoon could fuck me over.”
“Oh. Mazeltov.” Seokjin looks between the two with wide eyes and a little sheepish grin.
Yoongi snorts, trying to hide his grin of amusement.
“Will you shut up and let the man do his job?”
“Yoongi, you almost sound worried about me. Don’t get all soft on me now.” Seokjin’s eyes are practically twinkling with mischief as he observes Yoongi while Hoseok checks him over.
“He probably is worried, but he’ll never admit it. He’s a mother hen,” Hoseok cackles as he wraps up Seokjin’s wrist.
“Hey, boss?” Namjoon came up behind Yoongi and gently squeezed his shoulder. “Mr. Kim could probably do with some food. He’ll have to take some pain meds and can’t do that on an empty stomach.”
Food. He could do food. He’d fetch something from the kitchen.
“Be right back.”
As Yoongi traveled to the kitchen, he contemplated the pain he felt in his chest. He could pin it on feeling worried about some new gang getting vicious. Like he was worried they’d come for him next. He knew it was more than that, though. It was because they dared to touch Seokjin. Because Seokjin looked like he could have died today. The thought of Seokjin dead...it should make him happy, right? He was a rival boss and without him, there’d be less competition. Twelve years of putting up with this ridiculous man was enough. However, imagining the different outcome that could have happened tonight filled him with rage instead. Rage...and heartbreak.
Yoongi ignored that little tidbit for now and got to work ransacking his kitchen. He needed to make sure he got enough. Seokjin loved food so he would make sure that there was plenty to choose from. Eventually, he had a tray filled with side dishes, rice, and soybean paste stew. He chewed his lip as he contemplated whether it was enough, deciding to throw on a slice of the walnut tart he’d had for his own dessert that night.
He balanced the tray carefully as he walked back upstairs, the laughter floating from the bedroom making him smile. Hoseok and Namjoon were sitting on the side of the bed grinning as the freshly wrapped and bandaged Seokjin was in the middle of one of his ridiculous laughs.
“Yoongi! They were just telling me the best stories. Did you really try to rob the falafel place when you were a teenager? Even I’m terrified of him.”
Yoongi groaned and set the tray across Seokjin’s lap.
“Why’d you have to tell him that one? Yes, I did. I was convinced it was a cover business. So I planned this elaborate heist for months. Only to find out that not only does said terrifying owner live in the building, but he doesn't keep cash in the register or a safe. I only found a little change laying around before he woke up and chased after me with a paintball gun. All that work and I only got $2.38 and a huge welt on my ass from a paintball.”
Yoongi decided his humiliation was worth the utter joy it brought to Seokjin as the other fell into another fit of laughter. The despair he’d seen earlier was branded in his memory, so unusual was it to see such a negative emotion on the face of this man. Yoongi would bet actual money that even if he was about to kill someone, Seokjin would flirt up until the last moment.
“We’re going to go to bed now that everything seems okay. The arm is just sprained really bad, not broken. He does have a few bruised ribs that I want him to be careful with. I do highly suggest going to the hospital as soon as you can manage it to get some xrays and have your head looked at to make sure there’s no concussion. Otherwise, you’re going to live, it seems.” Hoseok pats Seokjin’s uninjured shoulder as he stands up, pulling Namjoon with him.
“Thank you, Doctor Turncoat.”
Hoseok grins and rolls his eyes, pulling Namjoon along with him.
Yoongi observes Seokjin as he struggles to eat with his left hand, spilling more on himself than he got into his mouth.
He sighs and wiggles his fingers. “Gimme.”
Seokjin glances at him in confusion for a moment, following his line of sight until it hit the spoon in his hand. The grin that made an appearance as he figured it out made Yoongi extremely nervous. It looked...knowing. Knowing of what?
He silently handed over the spoon and Yoongi went right to work, scooping a bit of stew onto it then lightly blowing, trying to avoid the cut in the other’s lip when he brought it to his mouth. He tried not to focus too much on the image of those plump lips being wrapped around something, nor the moans of pleasure as Seokjin at the stew.
“This is actually really good. Add some shrimp and it would taste just like my Mom’s.”
Yoongi flushed, changing the spoon to chopsticks so he could feed him some side dishes.
“I’ve had a few daydreams like this before. Some pretty thing feeding me delicious food. Only there are a lot fewer clothes and I’m not quite so mangled.”
Yoongi glances sharply at him, frowning as he fed him a bite of fish cake.
“You’re not mangled. Just beat up a bit. It’ll go away soon. You’ll be back to reminding me how handsome you are in no time.”
“Hoseok said my cheek will scar.”
Seokjin sounds near tears, and Yoongi’s heart clenched.
“I’m going to make those bastards suffer for what they did to you.”
“You say the most romantic things,” Seokjin said with a sigh, his eyelids fluttering as he fought off sleep. The pills must have started to kick in.
Yoongi picks up the tray and heads to the door, standing by the light switch.
“Get some sleep, Seokjin. I’ll help you get Jungkook back, you have my word.”
“Thank you, Yoongi,” Seokjin nearly whispers. Yoongi nods and flicks off the light, heading downstairs to plan.
Whoever these fuckers were that dared to touch Seokjin were going to die.
There would be no mercy.
They would burn.
#bts#bts fanfic#bts fanfiction#mafia!au#mafia!bts#bts crack#bts fluff#yoonjin#yoonjin fanfic#bts scenarios#yoonjin scenarios#yoonji#seokjin
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